


Connect the Dots

by Skelesin (DeadGodBless)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anatomy, Angst, Body Worship, Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadGodBless/pseuds/Skelesin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay so this is Sans/Reader, post True Pacifism Ending. Sans is having a bad time, and you just want to let him know someone cares. Listen I'm shit at summaries I'm sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Connect the Dots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dinkywitch](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dinkywitch).



> I just wanted to dedicate this to dinkywitch because she ruined my life and made me a dirty skeleton fucker please direct all complaints to her lol
> 
> I never asked to be a dirty sinner
> 
> Also I wasn't sure how to rate this but I think Mature is okay?

“Sans just stopped caring one day.” Papyrus shrugs. “I don’t know why.” His response to a comment by Undyne about the smaller skeleton’s laziness breaks your heart. You know what it means, to suddenly stop caring, to lose yourself to numbed apathy.

Undyne laughs it off. “Did he ever care? Dude’s the definition of chill.”

 You want to say something, to come to his defense, but you’re not really sure where to start. Do monsters even know the concept of depression? Is it something they’ve ever identified or treated? Would medication even work on a skeleton?

 You’ve known them all a couple of months now, having met after bumping into Papyrus in the middle of a store and apologizing only to have the tall skeleton declare he’d only forgive you if you promised to be his friend. He’s loud and goofy but something about that is comforting. Above all, he’s sweet as candy. You very quickly learned that being friends with Papyrus means being friends with all of his friends; especially his brother.

 Sans is such a contrast to his brother. He’s calm, quiet. He’s always grinning. You can’t think of a single moment you’ve seen otherwise. It doesn’t always make him seem happy though. Somehow his fixed smile can relay a myriad of different emotions. You just have to know how to look.

 At first it scared you, how he can just appear out of nowhere. His “shortcuts” left your heart pounding and your stomach dropping as though you were on a rollercoaster. They didn’t make sense. Now you’re not surprised to have him pop out of nowhere. You’re proud to say you barely jump when you feel his hand on your arm. “Hey.”

 Undyne crosses her arms over her chest. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

 Sans turns his grin to her. “Yeah, but you guys looked so bonely out here, I thought I should come say hello.” You can’t help snorting at the terrible pun, shaking your head.

 “How have you not been fired yet?” Undyne groans and shakes her head.

 Sans shrugs and doesn’t bother answering. The set of his shoulders is tense. Stressed. “Aww leave the poor guy alone. He’s been working himself to the bone.”

He beams at you and gives you a thumbs up. “Yeah, you’ve got it buddy.”

 “SANS, DON’T BE SUCH A LAZYBONES.” Papyrus scolds, voice booming and seeming to bounce off the buildings around you. “GET BACK TO WORK BEFORE YOU GET INTO TROUBLE.”

 The lights in Sans’ eyesockets roll upwards. “Yeah yeah. I’m going, bro.” He trudges off in the snow, hands shoved in his pockets. He almost seems smaller, hunched into his jacket even though you know he doesn’t feel the cold. He’s finally wearing real shoes instead of parading around in his slippers. Probably a requirement of his current employer.

 You turn back to see Undyne watching you with a toothy grin. She doesn’t say a word, just reaches out to ruffle your hair. “C’mon kid. Let’s head back to Pap’s place and watch this shit.”

 You never understand why she calls you kid. She’s always talking like she’s so much older than you. You’ve got to be around the same age. Well, at least you think you must be. How do monsters’ ages work? You’ve never thought to ask before.

 You settle on the couch between Papyrus and Undyne. She picks up the remote for the dvd player and clicks through the menu. She’s brought another anime from Alphys. Really this can go one of two ways. Either it will be surprisingly good or it will be so bad that it will be hilarious. Either way it promises a good time.

* * *

You must have fallen asleep at some point. You jerk awake with a start as the lock on the front door clicks.  Someone laid a blanket over you before leaving you to sleep. Your bet is on Papyrus. You don't hear her tell-tale snoring, so Undyne must have gone home. You peek up through your eyelashes, feigning sleep as Sans steps through the door. He’s quiet and through the light from outside you see a solemn expression on his face. You know that look. You’ve seen it reflected back at you in the mirror a hundred times before; eyes sunken, smile faltering. It’s a strange turn however, to see it on a skeleton.  You wonder if he has nightmares, if he practices his smile in the mirror every day before leaving the house. You wonder what he’s seen to make him look so hopeless.

You stir slowly, fluttering your eyes open as though you’re just now waking. His usual grin is back in place as he turns to you. “Hey buddy. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You’re alright,” You murmur. “How was work?”

“The breaks were great.” He says offhandedly. You snort. That’s so like him, brushing off the real question to make a joke.  “You have fun with my bro?”

“Oh God,” you groan. “That anime was awful. Not even funny awful. Undyne loved it.”

He plops down on the couch beside you, sinking into the cushions. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

You feel bad, taking up so much space on the couch, and swing your legs down to the floor. He’s half leaned against the arm of the couch, watching you quietly. His expression seems to flicker, but the change is gone before you can register what it really was. You wish you could just figure him out. You pat the couch beside you. “Swing your legs up dude. Take a load off. You’ve been working hard all day.”

He laughs outright. “You clearly overestimate me.” But he does as you suggest, swinging his legs up and stretching out to lay them in your lap.

“I’d offer you a foot rub,” you tell him. “But you don’t have any muscles so I’m not sure it would make any difference.”

“Honey, you can rub my _bone_ rs whenever you like.” He flashes you a grin.

You laugh so hard your sides ache. “That was awful. That was god-awful. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

He chuckles. “Got a laugh out of you.” He points out.

Well, he has a point. You wipe tears from the corners of your eyes and shake your head. The banter is easy, the silence that follows is easier. There’s something comfortable about the quiet. Somehow just being in the same place without speaking is enough.

You’re still a bit drowsy, not really thinking clearly, when you rest your hand on his leg and rub your thumb over his tibia. He twitches a bit underneath you, snapping you back to your senses. “Ah, sorry!” You remove your hand from his bones, placing it back on the couch beside you. You can feel heat in your cheeks and pray the blush isn’t visible.

“No, it’s okay.” His voice sounds different; huskier.

You swallow hard. “Does it hurt? It’s supposed to hurt if someone touches our bones…does it hurt yours?”

“Does it hurt every time someone touches your skin?” He asks in response.

“Well, no.” You answer, feeling a bit silly. “Pretty much the opposite.”

“Yeah.” He says softly. “Pretty much the opposite.”

That sounds like an invitation to your sleep addled brain and you’re already trailing your fingertips softly over his tibia again before you can think better of it. He shivers and lets out a soft sigh. There’s something intoxicating about just touching him. “Is this alright?” Your voice is a whisper in the still of the room.

“It’s great.” He practically purrs. “Not sure why you’d want to, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“I want to touch you.” You confess.

You keep tracing the lines of his bones, coming back down from his patella to his talus and sweeping back around to trail your fingertips up his fibula. You feel a little braver, slowing making your way up toward his femur. A snicker stops you before you can get there, just as your fingers brush the back of his patella. You look up at him, confused for a moment before it clicks. You can’t help a shit eating grin as you pin his ankles in the crook of your arm and tickle the backs of his knees. “Uh oh, look what I found.” You singsong.

“Fuck!” He squirms and laughs as you tease him. “Stop! C’mon stop!”

“Hmmm…I dunno…” You drawl, still grinning from ear to ear. “This seems like pretty good revenge for that shitty pun.”

“My puns are great!” He chokes out around laughter. You beg to differ, but you really don’t need to voice it any further. Your point is being pretty well made. “Uncle!”

“Don’t have one.” You’re having too much fun. There’s something wonderful about his breathless laughter. Real laughter. You like him laughing and happy.

“You’re g-gonna wake Papyrus!” He whines in a last ditch effort and fuck…that’s a good point.

You debate if it’s really worth it. “He wouldn’t wake up if you were quieter. Be a good brother and take your punishment.”

He doesn’t take the suggestion, still writhing in your grip. “C’mon, dammit!”

You sigh and release him from your grip. “You’re lucky I’m so kind and merciful.”

He shoots you a glare but it’s pretty much ruined by the scattered giggles still trailing from him. He’s blushing, and you’re not sure how that’s possible because he doesn’t have any blood does he? You’re caught up in the moment, in his smile, and you lean in and press your lips beside his mouth. He stills and, shit, you hadn’t meant to do that. He’s looking at you like he’s stunned as you pull away.

“Sorry.” You whisper, leaning back to put space between you. “Sorry. Sorry.”

His hands wrap gently around your neck to pull you back in and he presses his mouth against yours. It’s strange, but somehow wonderful. You trail your fingers over his jaw, loving the way he shivers at your touch. He pulls away, strokes some hair out of your face. “You’re really beautiful.”

“Call me Mona Lisa.” You quip, smirking.

“She’s not that beautiful.” He argues.

You open your mouth and shut it again in mock offense. “Excuse me sir, don’t kinkshame me.”

You end up laughing, foreheads pressed together. You love this, love the feeling of his cool bones pressed to your too-warm skin.  You want to ask Sans what this is. Are you dating? Are you just unwinding for a night?

“It’s never been like this before.” He says softly.

You look at him, take in the way his smile falters again. You can feel your heart breaking.  You’re not quite sure what he means, but you want to chase away his doubts. “It can be like this now.” You tell him, stroking your fingers lightly over his skull. “It can be like this all the time.”

“C’mon,” He says, sounding exhausted, like he’s already played this out in his head and didn’t like the way it went. “You’re a very attractive human. What are you doing wasting your time with a pile of bones like me?”

You cradle him close, pressing him to your chest and peppering the top of his skull with light kisses. “I happen to like your bones.” You tell him. “And your shitty puns. And just you. You’re not a waste of my time. You never could be.”

He gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you, so you decide to convince him, sliding his jacket down off his shoulders and down his arms. You set it on the floor beside the couch, his shirt quickly following after. You press gently against his sternum, coaxing him to lay down against the couch. He watches you, expression almost blank, as you straddle his pelvis.

You start at his neck, tracing the bones down along to his clavicle. You’re trying your best to remember all their names, murmuring them softly. “Clavicle. Sternum. Xiphoid process.” You write your name on his sternum, taking in the way he shivers, the way the lights of his eyes follow the movement of your hands. You let your left hand slip inside his rib cage, tracing the underside of his sternum even as you continue writing with your right. You try to think of as many adjectives as you can to describe him, scrawling them with the tip of your finger onto his bones. He lets out a low moan, trembling beneath you.

Gently you grind against him, feeling heat shoot through you with every groan and sigh he makes. You’ve run out of adjectives, and really that’s a shame. You make up for it by leaning down and laving his clavicle with your tongue. He arches and gasps, bones shaking as you follow the path your fingers had taken with your tongue. You sweep over his sternum, sucking lightly on the xiphoid process for a moment. He bucks his hips up to meet you, pelvis grinding against you. You slip your hands into his shorts and grip his pelvis as you grind, fingers stroking at the bone as you continue to lave his sternum with your tongue.

He arches hard, gasping as though he were drowning. And then he settles, sinking back into the couch as though his bones were made of jelly. You blush as you pull yourself up, looking down at him. You brush some hair out of your face. “Are you alright?” You ask quietly.

“Fuuuuck.” His voice is heavy, eyes seeming as though their half-lidded as they stare up at you. “That’s nice. That’s so fucking good. You’re so fucking good.”

You blush at the praise, easing down to rest against him. You press against his side, finding a comfortable enough spot to rest your head against his shoulder. His arm wraps around you and he goes quiet again.  You’re worried about what he might be thinking. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt like you had to fill a silence with him. “So in case you couldn’t tell, I kind of really like you. A lot.”

He turns his head to look at you, grinning and it’s real this time. Happier than you can ever remember seeing him. “Yeah buddy, I like you too.”

You smile and drape your arm over him, watching as he gradually falls asleep.


End file.
